


Tempt You

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [26]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 12:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14080926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: (Based on a prompt from Tumblr!)“Do you want to be figured out? If the answer is no, then I’ll leave it be.”Caleb tears up, a little bit.“But,” Molly presses on, “If you do, then I will not give up until I solve you.”





	Tempt You

**Author's Note:**

> "Could you write a molly/caleb/fjord, some sweet get-together thing based on Tempt You by Nothing But Thieves?"  
> From [Stupid-Poetry](http://stupid-poetry.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
> And it ended up. Surprisingly long for me.

Mollymauk wakes up with the very first pale greys of dawn. Fjord’s arm is heavy over him, but does a much better job at holding in heat than the blanket does. He wriggles, just a little bit, slips down slow and careful, stopping dead every time Fjord hums or moves or twitches, eventually he gets himself free. He dresses silently, buckles each one in turn, and looks between Fjord and his scimitars, laying on the ground in the neat bundle.  
He sits and crosses his legs, unravels and lays them out, careful, fingers pressing only every so slightly into each ridge, tracing every piece of the blades.  
He closes his eyes, and Fjord’s name is the first word to drop quietly from his lips, a prayer in itself.  
The grey light has risen a fair amount by the time he finishes, but he knows that the party’s long night will keep them in bed well past dawn, so he keeps his hopes and his head high, buckles the scimitars around his waist and tucks everything into place. He wanders around the bed to lean down and kiss Fjord’s temple, sweeps just the smallest strand of hair from his face, and hopes that he doesn’t wake whilst Molly is gone. He drops a _love you_ into the still air of the room as he slides, very silently, out of the door, and heads down to Caleb and Nott’s room.

Caleb hasn’t locked the door.

This concerns him.  
He knows Caleb well enough to check the floor carefully for silver thread, and finds it, he knows that he cannot cross the threshold without alarming him. Opening the door, alone, was dangerous.  
He had planned for this, though, in all fairness, and he hadn’t thought of a way around it.  
He steps, very quickly over the threshold, draws his right scimitar, lights it up and clenches his opposite hand to staunch the flow of blood from the new, straight line there.  
He’s not a big fan of cutting his hands, it’s impractical and throws off his fighting for pain later, but it was the most convenient at the time. By the time Caleb is sitting and lighting up his own hands, Molly is in the middle of the room, the scimitar a dim torch illuminating his face. Caleb’s warning to Nott dies in his throat.  
He doesn’t trust Mollymauk, but he knows that he is not here to kill him. No point in worrying her over nothing.  
“It is six in the morning.” Caleb whispers, sleepy, angry, it evens out to a deadpan with a frown. Molly steps in a little closer, sits on the edge of Caleb’s bed.  
“I want you to come somewhere with me.” Molly whispers, low, Caleb’s frown deepens,  
“Why now? Where?”  
Molly places the hilt of his scimitar between his knees to hold it, so that he can press the fingers of his right hand against the wound on his left. It stings, another drawback of cutting his hands, and Caleb’s eyes drift to it slowly.  
He looks back to Molly’s face, studies him, and without breaking his line of sight, leans over the edge of the bed to grab his coat. There’s a roll of bandages in his pocket that he uses to protect his hands when he’s casting, and he takes them out, holds out an empty hand to Molly.  
“Here.”  
Almost grudgingly, Molly pulls his hands apart and lets Caleb take his left. He licks, carefully, the blood smeared on his right. Caleb watches with a morbid curiosity, he doesn’t need to watch his own hands as he wraps Molly’s wounded one, it’s a motion he could do in his sleep.  
“It will stick when you take them off.” He warns, and Molly nods,  
“I know how bandages work, Caleb.” and it sounds so snippy that Caleb winces, a little, there’s a lot of bridge that’s been burned. Molly wipes the remaining blood and saliva off of his right hand onto his face, the closest thing that won’t stain, and then sets that hand roughly where he assumes Caleb’s knee to be under the covers.  
“We’ve had, well, days. They haven’t exactly been _good_ days. I feel it’s been especially damaging to you and I.”  
“I’m good.” Caleb replies, almost too quick, and Molly shakes his head,  
“Even if I believed that, it’s not what I meant. To you _and_ I, Caleb, Zadash has not been kind.”  
“I don’t understand.” Caleb tells him, ties off the bandages and releases his hand. Molly flexes his fingers a little.  
“The relationship between you and I, I mean. I know that Fjord hopes to earn your trust, one day, and so do I.”  
Caleb is only a little shocked, it’s evident only in the slither of white that appears around the blue in his eyes.  
“I- I- You do not trust me, either, Mollymauk.” Caleb finds his tongue to point it out, “You pinned me to a _wall-_ ” he swallows the bit about it being just a little exciting, for a moment or two.  
Molly looks… a little downtrodden at that, guilty, perhaps, he nods.  
“I’d misinterpreted you.” He admits, “And in doing so, I damaged the bond I’ve wanted to form. I’d like you to come with me, just for a little while, I’d like to try and fix it.”  
Caleb studies him, tries to dig deeper, he finds openness and honesty on Molly’s face.  
“Okay.” He says, eventually, and swats at Molly’s arm, “I will get dressed and leave a note for Nott, you may want to leave one for Fjord, too.”  
“That’s an idea, I didn’t really think that far ahead.” Molly stands, and Caleb gestures to his careful pile of ink and parchment, lets Molly take a sheet, and shoos him out of the room.  
Molly leans against a wall to pen the note,  
_Fjord,_ __  
_I’m out with Caleb trying to douse some of the burning bridges. Don’t panic._ __  
_Molly_ __  
He thinks on it for a few steps, then stops to add a note,  
_You can douse the bridges in the future, seems appropriate for a man that vomits seawater._  
He adds a quick heart to the end and heads to his room.  
When he opens the door, Fjord’s head turns quickly to him, the warlock is halfway through pulling on a boot.  
“ Molly .” He pulls it off and drops it, stands to cross the room in three quick strides, he bundles Molly up into a concerned hug. It’s tight, Molly reciprocates, relaxes against Fjord’s warmth.  
“Hey, love.” Molly greets, and Fjord pulls him off like peeling a away a glass stuck to a countertop with spilled drink. He holds him at arms length,  
“Why’d y’ disappear at fuck-o-clock in th’ mornin’? Are you a’righ’?”  
“I’m fine,” Molly pushes himself to his tiptoes to kiss Fjord, gently. His bandaged hand rests on Fjord’s shoulder, support, and when Molly pulls back, Fjord takes it from his shoulder carefully. It’s like he’s holding a delicate glass sculpture.  
“What’d you do?”  
Molly pats the hilt of his scimitar with his right hand,  
“Needed some light so Caleb didn’t make me into a torch.”  
“You’re an idiot, sometimes, Molly, y’know?” Fjord kisses his forehead, and Molly chuckles a little,  
“Yes, I know. Anyway, the reason I was gone-”  
“Oh yeah.” Fjord interrupts, and apologises quickly, Molly continues,  
“I went to Caleb. I still feel…” he drifts, “I want to fix things, like you, I want him to trust me. If we earn Caleb’s trust, we earn Nott’s, too.” Molly’s gaze hits the floor, “I want to help her.”  
“Me too.” Fjord agrees, and squeezes Molly’s hands, “So Caleb?”  
“Ah, yes. I wanted to take him out of… this, for a couple of hours.”  
“Where to?”  
Molly’s brain just. Stops.  
“I didn’t think about that.” he says, and Fjord laughs a little,  
“I’ll come with y’, if y’ don’t mind? I’d like to do a little fixin’ of bridges myself.”  
Molly nods, lets Fjord leave him to put the remainder of his clothes on, and slowly presses his face into his hands.  
He’d got it into his mind, somehow, that as soon as he and Caleb were alone, everything would just… fix itself.  
He wonders if the bath house is open this early.  
He decides that’s the first place they’ll check.  
Caleb appears outside the door to the room, which is, still open. Molly hasn’t moved since Fjord hugged him, and Caleb’s fist is raised to knock, he seems to be almost on autopilot. His knock hits air, and he looks at Molly in surprise.  
“Oh.”  
“Fjord will be joining us, if that’s okay with you?”  
Caleb looks past him, to Fjord, currently tugging his shirt over his head and waving blindly.  
“That seems fine.”

 

Molly leads the way to the bath house, they are all silent, Caleb sticks to Fjord’s side, opposite Molly, and it hurts him a little, if he’s honest.  
The first traders of the day are out, the light of day is no longer grey, and the bath house is open when they arrive.  
“Another bath?” Caleb raises his eyebrows at Molly as he pays for the communal, and for their clothes to be scrubbed of the sewer smell that still sticks to them. Molly raises his eyebrows right back,  
“I prefer my men to be naked.”  
He hears Caleb inhale, slow and deep, a combination of shock and something Molly can’t effectively read, but he hopes it’s excitement. Molly is definitely happy with the prospect.  
  
Molly sinks into the water first, Fjord and Caleb join him about a minute later, Molly drinks in the sight as they dip themselves down.  
He moves to Caleb first, slowly, he knows he’s the one that damaged the bond between them. Plus, he considers, Caleb is staring at his tattoos and trying to look like he isn’t. He’s not doing a great job.  
“You’d make a piss-poor scout, Caleb, you can’t stealth for shit.”  
He hopes the insult sounds affectionate. Fjord comes around on Caleb’s other side,  
“Y’know,” he softens, “I’m sure Molly wouldn’t mind y’ takin a closer look, if thats what y’ wanted.”  
Caleb looks from Fjord to Molly,  
“I would- I would appreciate that, a lot-”  
Molly pats his shoulder before he can ramble, spreads his arms,  
“I’m all yours.”  
He catches the flicker of jealousy on Fjord’s face, smirks a little, Caleb immediately slips through the gap between the other two to make his way to Molly’s back. He studies, enthralled, and when he presses the very tips of his fingers to skin, Molly nearly jumps out of it.  
“I didn’t say you could touch.” Caleb’s hands pull away at Molly’s words, even though the tiefling tilts his head so that Caleb can see his smirk, and he can already hear the jesting tone to his voice. “I’ll swap you a touch for a touch, though.”  
“Businessman.” Caleb replies, and sets his fingers back to Molly’s skin, because even if he holds him to the trade, it’s not the worst thing that could happen. Fjord leans back against the edge of the bath and watches Caleb’s expression, his body language, as he documents each and every tattoo and commits it to memory for later inspection. Molly hurts in his heart.  
Caleb finishes far too fast for Molly’s liking, his sharp mind may be useful, but it causes Molly the most unlikely of inconveniences in that Caleb can just… recall the tattoos later.  
He wants Caleb’s hands on him forever.  
Caleb settles himself back at the edge of the bath, and sinks lower, lower, every silent second that passes, until he’s underwater completely, and Molly has to dip lower to take hold of his arm and pull.  
Caleb comes up, and Molly is on him,  
“A trade,” he reminds Caleb as his fingertips drift from Caleb’s arm to his shoulder, and lower, “A touch for a touch.”  
Caleb bristles with electric tension, but nods, allows it. Molly ghosts first over the shadowed definition of each of Caleb’s ribs, and follows it with inspection of each wound in turn. The three arrow holes from the ambush on the road, the many wounds from the Gnolls, the arrow that had gone straight through Caleb’s body, he sinks in the water to, subconsciously, press a kiss to that wound, just above the hipbone, and Fjord’s eyebrows go up.  
“Molly, with all the attention you’re givin’ Caleb, he’s gonna explode, and I’m gettin’ jealous.”  
It sounds jesting, it’s more serious, Molly knows. He rights himself,  
“Sorry,” he apologises, to Caleb specifically, drifts in the water to Fjord, “Carried away.”  
Caleb is bright pink, his flush is already creeping down his neck to his chest and shows no signs of stopping.  
He clears his throat.  
“Some warning, next time, please.” and Molly grins a little. He turns, over his shoulder, to Fjord,  
“Could I ask a favour of you, dear?” he picks his words and tone carefully, hopes Fjord picks it up.  
“Anythin’.” he does.  
“Could you request some more hot water from Miss Rima?”  
Fjord nods and climbs out of the bath, both Caleb and Molly guilty of watching as he wraps himself in a towel and heads out.  
The moment he is out of the room, Molly turns, immediately, back to Caleb, and takes a step. Caleb flinches, and Molly stops, holds his hands out to him.  
Caleb… takes them.  
“I know,” Molly says, low, “That I am not always easy to be around. Especially when there is such a clash in personalities, you are… reserved. I can’t afford to be.”  
Caleb stares at him, somewhere between amazement and arguing. Molly’s breath draws without his permission,  
“Caleb, I.” A gulp, “I love you, I want, I want you to trust me, to care for me, I-”  
“I care about you.” Caleb's voice louder than he intended, his shock and panic welling into one, “I care a lot.”  
Molly can’t afford to be stunned,  
“I want to learn to understand you, Caleb. It bothers me that I can’t read you like I can the others, you have your own language. And I don’t mean Zemnian.”  
Caleb smiles a little,  
“I _need_ to learn to understand you. I want to figure you out, I want to know you.”  
“I am a seven-layer puzzle, Mollymauk.” Caleb’s smile is pained, a little bitter, and Molly frowns at him a little. “Nobody can figure me out.”  
Molly squeezes Caleb’s hands.  
“Do you want to be solved?” He asks him, and Caleb’s bitter pain evaporates into shock, “Do you _want_ to be figured out? If the answer is no, then I’ll leave it be.”  
Caleb tears up, a little bit.  
“But,” Molly presses on, “If you do, then I will not give up until I solve you.”  
“Please,” Caleb tells him, teary-eyed and clutching Molly’s hands like a rope on the edge of a cliff, like Molly is life itself, “I want to be solved.”  
Molly pulls him in and kisses him, he feels one of Caleb’s hands loose from his grip and set on his hip instead, a bruising grip that’s bound to leave marks, Molly uses his free hand to take the back of Caleb’s neck, fingers just lacing into the hair at the base of his skull.  
He can taste Caleb’s pain and desperation, the same way he could taste it when he kissed his forehead in Alfield, he wants to draw it out like he would venom from a wound.  
Caleb pulls away a second from infinity, Molly follows, drawn for only a moment after losing himself, he recollects himself back into his outline.  
“I’m sorry.” Caleb is saying, and Molly just pulls him back, a hug, he does not let go of Caleb’s hand, never softens his grip. Caleb settles against his shoulder.  
Fjord re-enters, they hear him but stay put, Molly looks to him without moving.  
“Everythin’ okay?” Fjord asks as he slides down, and Caleb steps back at that, but keeps his grip on Molly’s hand.  
“Rebuilding bridges, far more efficiently than I’d expected.” Molly beams at him, brilliant, he holds his spare hand out to Fjord. Caleb looks between them.  
“Oh.” he says, quiet. Molly feels him try to pull away and grasps a little harder,  
“No,” soft, sudden, “Don’t.”  
“In retrospect,” Fjord shifts to move to Caleb’s other side, “havin’ both of us for such an emotional time is prob’ly not the best idea, Molly.”  
“I mean,” Molly doesn’t take his eyes from Caleb, “I have ulterior motives. And those require all three of us.”  
“Ulterior motives?” Caleb asks, and Molly steps closer, lets go of his hand to wrap that arm around his waist instead, Alfield-style. Possessive. Affectionate.  
“It’s hard to negotiate your way into a relationship without one of the parties present.” He flashes them a sharp grin, it’s proud, his nerves show plainly behind it. Heart on his sleeve, he admits to every flaw in each movement, he’s naked both figuratively and literally. Caleb’s hand finds his hip and squeezes a little.  
Even Fjord is surprised at him, something he’s sprung a little suddenly, he shakes his head to rid himself of the shock.  
Caleb looks between them again, back and forth, and,  
“Are you implying, Mollymauk, that somehow I have met up with a group of people in which _two_ people have fallen in love with me?”  
Molly flushes a little, appreciates the candor, is embarrassed all the same.  
“He is.” Fjord fills in the words before Molly can find them in his mouth, and Caleb exhales, shakily, he offers Fjord a hand.  
Fjord takes it, the three huddle, a little closer together.  
The assistants of the bath house take that inopportune time to enter and tip more hot water into the cooling bath, Molly sighs as it spreads around him, leans in, rests his head on Caleb’s shoulder.  
“You realise that means you have to _talk_ to us about your problems, Caleb?” Molly says, half-joking, and he feels Caleb shake a couple of times with silent chuckles,  
“I will try, to work on that, and get better.” Caleb nods. Fjord smiles at him, gentle, loving,  
“Caleb, would it be a’righ’ if I kissed you?” he asks, and despite the nature of their conversation preceding, Caleb seems surprised. He tries to find words, fishes in the pool of his own mind, he can’t. So he nods, instead, and Fjord cups his jaw with surprising softness, and kisses him. Gentle, loving, warm, everything that Caleb wants, Molly squeezes him gently from the other side and he sighs against Fjord’s lips. It’s wonderful, bliss, and in his mind, at least, the moment will stretch for infinity.

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes:
> 
> My feelings for my best friend make another inspirational appearance.  
> The bit thats um  
>  _“Do you want to be figured out? If the answer is no, then I’ll leave it be.”_  
>  _Caleb tears up, a little bit._  
>  _“But,” Molly presses on, “If you do, then I will not give up until I solve you.”_  
>  is something i did once.  
> clarification: i never got an answer. he changed the subject. that's something i do understand.
> 
> anyway unrelated to me being a gay loser for my best friend and onto me being a gay loser for mollymauk:  
> molly is hot. i said it.
> 
> unrelated to me being gay:  
> Since april is camp nanowrimo, i dont know if i'll be able to keep up with fic daily alongside, like, my novel draft?? so it may drop back a lot, which is a shame, because im currently on track to one a day for a month and i like it. it encourages me to write, and i enjoy it!  
> i enjoy the attention lesbehonest


End file.
